Falling Harder (19 page)

Chapter Five

Trace

Lost and Found

“What’s the name?” drawls the bored-sounding operator on the
other end of the line.

I slap my hand against my forehead, forcing a steady breath
into my lungs. I’ve been playing fucking phone tag for the better part of the
afternoon, and I’m about to lose it.

“It’s Faber,” I tell the disembodied woman.

“Favor?” she asks.

“What? Who’s last name is ‘Favor’?” I ask incredulously.
“Faber. F, A, B, E, R.”

“Oh! I see. That makes more sense, doesn’t it?” the woman
chirps. I hear her punch the letters into her keyboard and wait for the results
to load. “And the first name?”

“Nadia,” I tell her. “N, A—”

“I can spell Nadia, sir. I’m not a moron.”

Could have fooled me, I think, but keep it to myself. All I
want from this woman is an address and a phone number, ASAP.

“Let’s see...there around about twenty listings for Nadia
Faber...”

“Twenty?!” I exclaim.

“Do you have any additional information?”

“No...No, just her name,” I say, resigned. “Thanks, I guess.
I’ll figure something else out.

I hang up before the operator can respond and bury my hands
in my face. For hours now, I’ve been cooped up in my tiny new apartment, trying
like hell to figure out where in the city Nadia might be. Since the moment I
saw her picture in the paper this morning, I’ve been like a man possessed. All
I can think about it what it would be like to see her again, to explain my long
silence, to embrace her after all this time...

A knock on the door jolts me out of my sappy reverie. I eye
padlocked door warily. So soon after arriving back in Chicago, I’m certainly
not expecting company. And I’ve learned by now that unexpected visitors are not
the kind you want.

“Trace, it’s me,” says Garrick’s voice from beyond the door.

“You could have just said that,” I tell him, crossing the
small living room to let him in.

“What the hell did you disappear for this morning?” he asks,
as I swing the door open. “The girls were gonna make us breakfast and
everything.”

“Wasn’t in the mood, I guess,” I shrug.

“You sick or something?” Garrick asks, flopping down onto my
years-old couch.

“Or something,” I allow, crossing my arms. “Did you just
come over here to give me a hard time?”

“Well excuse me Missy, is it that time of the month already?”
Garrick says gruffly. “But no, incidentally. I came by because I got a very
interesting phone call from our old friend Skidmore.”

My jaw clenches involuntarily. “Skidmore,” I repeat, “Our
old boss, Skidmore?”

“The very same,” Garrick tells me.

“And what did Skidmore have to say to you?” I press, “I hope
he didn’t have any interesting offers for us?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“No. Fuck that, Garrick,” I say hurriedly, “We’re not
getting mixed up in that shit the second we get back.”

“I’m not suggesting that we make any hasty decisions,”
Garrick says, “I just thought I’d let you know what’s out there, is all. Sounds
like there’ve been some changes in the cells. A few of the higher ups have lost
their touch, I guess. Skidmore’s got more pull now, and he’s looking for people
he can trust to get things going again.”

“No way in hell,” I say definitively. “Garrick, it was one
thing when we were eighteen and clueless, but things are different now. We
could chalk working for those drug lords up to ignorance back then, but we know
a thing or two by now, right? We’ve seen the world. The worst parts of the
world. We’re too good for that shit. We’re veterans, man. People actually
respect what we’ve done for the country. There are gonna be doors open to us—”

“What doors?” Garrick mutters, “You get any engraved job
offers yet?”

“Not yet,” I allow, “But we haven’t even started looking,
yet. I thought I might get back to working with my hands. You know I always
loved cars.”

“And what about me?” Garrick asks.

“Computers, man!” I tell him, “That’s all you did over there
was figure out how to work a fuckin' computer. That’s got to be good for
something.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he admits, “I have to tell you though, it’s
awfully tempting to go and help Skidmore out for a second. You remember the
kind of money we were making back in the day? And we were just working
low-level shit then. Imagine what it would be like now!”

“I don’t think I will,” I tell him.

“Since when are you such a pussy?” Garrick scoffs, “There’s
no use pretending that we’ve been scrubbed clean of our pasts just because we
did our time in Afghanistan, dude. Three tours of sacrifice doesn’t make up for
the rest of our lives.”

“I know,” I tell him, “You think I don’t know that? But why
would you want to get right back into that shit now, Garrick? We can start a
whole new chapter now. We don’t have to be the people we were. Shit, we’re not
even thirty years old, man. We’ve got entire lives to live.”

“OK, OK. Jesus Christ. Don’t go all motivational speaker on
me,” Garrick shudders. “I might puke all over your fancy rugs. I’ll stay away
from Skidmore, I promise.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Whatever,” Garrick says, “You still haven’t told me why the
hell you acted like such a weirdo this morning.”

“I got...uh...distracted, I guess,” I tell him.

“With what?” he asks.

I hesitate, wondering whether I should let Garrick in on my
plans to see Nadia again. He’s never been a fan of the idea before...but
honestly, I could use a little backup.

“Did you see today’s paper?” I ask him.

“When have I ever read a paper, man?” he laughs.

“Yeah, I figured,” I say, “Well...Uh...There was a picture
on the front page that caught my eye. It was...Dude, it was Nadia.”

Garrick’s eyes pop open. “Nadia? Our Nadia?”

“The very same. Ten years older than the last time we saw
her, sure, but there was no mistaking her.”

“What the hell was she on the front page for? She win the
lottery or something?”

“No, dude. She’s some big shot lawyer now. Just put away
some pervert for kiddie porn.”

“That good fuckin' Samaritan,” Garrick grins, “Should have
known she would make something of herself. That’s awesome.”

“Right?” I say excitedly, “I saw that picture, and all of a
sudden it was just like, ‘What the fuck am I doing having breakfast with a
twenty-year-old chick? I need to figure out where Nadia is!’”

Garrick’s face falls the moment the words have cleared my
lips. “Dude...No,” he says, “Come on, don’t go there.”

“Why not?” I demand, “She’s here in Chicago, Garrick. I’ve
got to find her.”

“To do what?” he asks, “Profess your undying love for her?
Ask for a job? A loan?”

“No. I—”

“It’s a mistake,” Garrick says, “And it can’t end well.
What’s it going to be like, seeing her again? You think you’re just gonna be
able to pick up where you left off? You’ve both lived entire lives of your own
since the last time you saw each other. You’re adults now. Shit, she could be
involved with someone. Or married. Why do you want to open yourself up to
that?”

“It’s not a matter of want,” I tell him, “I need to see
her.”

“Give me a fucking break,” he grumbles.

“I’m serious. I’m not asking your opinion,” I say, “I’m
going to find Nadia, and I’m going to go see her. Now I just need to figure out
how.”

“What do you mean, how?” Garrick says, cocking an eyebrow.
“Hop on a fucking computer and Google her, ass hat.”

“You know I hate computers,” I tell him.

“Christ. What was your plan, a carrier pigeon?” Garrick
laughs.

“Could you...maybe...help me with that?” I ask him.

“Ugh. You’re such a dick,” he groans, “I don’t want any part
of this weird, masochistic thing you’re doing. But if you really need me to
hold your hand through a freaking Google search.”

“Thanks, Bro,” I grin, “You’re the best.”

Garrick rolls his eyes and crosses to my ancient desktop
computer. “For fuck’s sake, why do you even bother?” he asks.

“Appearances,” I shrug.

My friend boots up the machine and waits for it to groan to
life. I sit beside him at the scuffed desk, holding my breath as he fiddles
with the monitor and mouse. After what feels like a lifetime, he locates my
internet browser and enters Nadia’s name into the search bar. With a few
strokes of the keyboard, he pulls up a profile on some social media site with
her name, work place, and photo.

“Shit,” Garrick says, starting slack jawed at her picture,
“She grew up good.”

“Don’t ogle her, dick head,” I say, “Just find me an address
for that law firm. What is it...Brewer, Roberts, and Santos.”

“Done,” Garrick says, in no time flat, “It’s downtown. Where
all the fancy people play.”

“Excellent,” I breathe, springing up from my chair, “I’ll
head over right away.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Garrick says, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“What are you gonna do, show up unannounced in your fatigues and scare the
living shit out of her?”

“I guess that was...kind of the plan,” I say.

“You’re so lucky that I’m around,” Garrick says, shaking his
head. “Trace, first things first. Take a shower. Put on some real clothes. Comb
your fucking hair. Figure out what you’re going to say to the girl—woman—when
you see her.”

“Yeah...OK, you’re right.”

“Damn straight,” Garrick says, turning to leave me to it,
“And good luck, you crazy son of a bitch. You’re going to need it.”

I padlock the door after him and fly into action. People
have always told me that I clean up good, and thank god for that. Maybe I’ll at
least be able to give a decent first impression when I get to Nadia’s office.
My heart is tweaking out as I get myself together and head off in search of her
building. I set off into the city in my best pair of black jeans and a flannel
button-up. It’s not a three-piece suit, but I’m sure it will be just fine. Or
at least, I hope it will be.

Tearing through the streets of Chicago, I try and figure out
a good opening line. “Hey Nadia, how’s your decade been?”, “Hey Sis, you look
smoking hot!”, “Hey, I dreamed about you all the time when I was fighting that
war, want to get a drink?”

On second thought, I guess there’s nothing wrong with
improvising.

As I bear down on the address Garrick found for me, I snatch
up a small bouquet of flowers. Not roses, that would be weird. Some girl I
dated told me once that flowers have meanings all their own, even the color
matters. Hopefully I didn’t accidentally pick some kind that means, “I totally
haven’t spent the last ten years wondering about you.” What good would it be to
lie off the bat?

Finally, my trek comes to an end. I stand on the curb across
the way from Nadia’s building and crane my neck, trying to see the top. The
mirrored windows blind me as I try and count the stories. It’s incredible that
the same girl who used to tutor me over plates of diner fare works here, now.
I’m impressed and intimidated and terrified all at once.

“OK,” I say to myself, “Let’s do this.”

But try as I might, I can’t seem to move. One foot doesn’t
want to go in front of the other. I’m rooted to my little square of concrete,
gazing up at the imposing monolith before me. All of a sudden, a whopping case
of self-consciousness comes down on me, hard. But even worse than that is the
fear that, after all this time, Nadia will have simply forgotten about me.

What if, during all these years I’ve spent wondering and
worrying about her, she hasn’t given me a second thought? What if she simply
doesn’t have room in her impressive, cultured life for a mess of a man like me?
Try as I might, I can’t silence the doubts that have begun echoing through my
skull.

“You gonna stand there all day, buddy?” says a gruff voice
beside me.

“Wh-what?” I stammer, turning to face a short, round man
who’s looking at me like I’m clinically insane.

“You’ve been standing there for, like, an hour,” he says,
eyeing my flowers, “I say, either nut up or keep moving.”

He pushes past me across the intersection, and I’m jostled from
my reverie. I take a deep breath and take a step toward the skyscraper across
the way. But just as my foot touches down, the revolving doors ahead swoosh
open, and a startlingly beautiful woman emerges. She’s weighed down by a heap
of papers and files that obscure her face for a moment. But as she turns and
hurries away, her profile is revealed.

“Nadia,” I whisper, drinking in the sight of her. I never
could have imagined at seventeen that it would be possible for her to become
more beautiful, but I’ll be damned. Her familiar features have only grown more
striking, her figure is lean and athletic...and even better, she’s actually
real
. After so many
years of dreaming about her, I can actually rest my eyes on her once again.

That is, unless I let her walk away.

I pick up the pace, hurrying after her as she winds through
the pedestrian traffic like a pro. My eyes are fixed on her smooth blonde
hair—there’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight. I was hoping that I’d be
able to visit her at work, keep things neutral and safe to begin with. Showing
up at her apartment seems awfully desperate...but then, I am desperate to see
her.

Without knowing it, Nadia leads me back through the city to
an apartment building that is just as impressive as her office. I stop across
the street and watch as she pushes open the front door with her shoulder. I
open my mouth to call out to her, but my voice catches in my throat.

As I stand there, silenced by nerves, Nadia disappears into
the shiny castle she calls home. I watch through the window as she greets the
doorman and steps into the elevator. Just like that, she’s gone once more.